


In My Heart

by HotChocolateCore



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry Styles - Freeform, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, M/M, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6630034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotChocolateCore/pseuds/HotChocolateCore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over a decade after the band breaks up, Harry is still in the middle of a successful solo career, and appears to be enjoying his life. Louis however, is struggling more than ever. Depression, drugs, and custody disputes rule his life; to the point where he's ready for it to be over. Will Harry be able to save him, or will Louis fade out of his life for good?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The crowd erupted into cheers as Harry finished the last scheduled song in his set. The stage lights were still completely on, bleaching the dark arena with pigmented color. The audience full of old One Direction fans and new Harry Styles fans were jumping with joy as he waved at people in the front rows, thanking them has he started making his way towards the back of the stage. “Thank you London, you’ve been a great crowd!” He shouted, causing the post-concert tears to appear on several faces. He was approaching the exit, when he spun around on his heel, a huge cheeky grin plastered on his newly enthused face. He waved his arms slightly, as the crowd quieted in confusion. The screams became louder than ever before, as non other than Liam Payne jogged out onto the stage. Harry threw his already outstretched arm around his shoulder, hugging him close and making the crowd go insane.  
Just when they thought life couldn’t get any better, Niall Horan skipped out onto the stage ridiculously, barely recognizable with his natural hair color. At that point, the entire arena was going batshit crazy. Harry threw his free arm around his other former-bandmate, and they stayed like that for a moment, squished together in a hug as the crowd assumed Louis would be arriving next. “Alright, alright. Settle down, we can barely hear ourselves breath.” Harry said, making everyone quiet down to a reasonable level. “Now, the three of us are willing to do a song, but only if that’s something you guys want. Yes or no?” Everybody in the audience screamed in approval, causing all three of the lads to laugh.  
Harry had a miniature conversation with the boys, confirming some last minute details, when the left side of the stadium started chanting. Louis, Louis, Louis. The right side joined in, and Harry visibly tensed. Louis, Louis, Louis. Liam glanced at Niall, trying to best gauge how to handle the suddenly awkward situation. Niall shrugged, so Liam cleared his throat, and started talking into his microphone as he thought about how much he hadn’t missed the uncontrollable fan base. “Um, sorry, but Louis is unable to join us today, being in America and all.” The crowd made an audible disappointed noise, and Niall spoke up. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna have a great mini reunion! Let’s go, boys!” He said, his traditional Niall enthusiasm seeping into the words.  
Harry smiled at that, relaxing and fixing his in-ear quickly as the band started playing the familiar first couple chords to their old hit, Best Song Ever. None of the three had performed the song in close to 10 years, but the happiness in their voices was undeniable as the lyrics began. “Maybe it’s the way she walked …”


	2. Chapter One

Louis lifted his lighter to his mouth, lighting the cigarette he had trapped between his lips. He breathed in the satisfying smoke, and lowered his hand as he exhaled, the physical evidence of his addiction now floating right in front of his face. He had his legs resting on the coffee table in between him and the active TV he was paying no attention, with his free hand splayed across the back of the couch. He lifted the roll of white and orange paper to his lips, breathing it in yet again, feeling the stress melt off him as the nicotine travelled throughout his veins.   
“Do you know Harry Styles?” The clippy voice on the TV questioned, and he felt his chest muscles clench. His eyes snapped up to the screen, and the stereotypical news program that was currently running. “Yes, he’s been a huge pop star for years. Is there anyone who doesn’t know him?” Responded the other anchor. Louis was paying attention now. He kicked his feet of the table, and set them on the ground, sitting up with his forearms on his thighs. He set his cigarette down in the small ashtray that accompanied him everywhere, even though the burning tobacco was nowhere near over with. “Well, if you’re a die hard fan, you may even remember that Harry Styles wasn’t always just that, he used to be a part of the boy band One Direction.” As the anchor spoke, Harry’s most recent red carpet picture, and the cover of Made in the A.M. appeared next to her face, and Louis was entranced. With Harry’s eyes, not hers.  
The male anchor nodded, pretending to know what she was talking about. “And, you die hard fans will be happy to know, that the group had a mini reunion last night at Styles’ London concert for his most recent album, Things I Can.” Louis’ fists clenched as he swore under his breath. He hadn’t even been invited. “Styles was joined by his former band-mates Liam Payne and Niall Horan just after the concert was supposed to be over, and they performed their old smash record Best Song Ever.” Pictures of the three of them hugging and singing together flashed across the screen, and Louis stood, crossing the room so he was mere feet from the television.   
“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t there more members?” The male anchor said, and the female one nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Yes, the boys were not joined by Louis Tomlinson or Zayn Malik, although Malik’s departure happened years before the disbanding of the group, so the only one under speculation is Tomlinson.” Louis exhaled stiffly, and it felt like fire. “In recent reports regarding Tomlinson, we’ve seen that he lost a custody battle over his son, Freddie, and is still residing in Los Angeles, which I guess is excuse enough to not show up at a concert in London.” The two chuckled, and Louis smacked the TV, turning it off aggressively.  
He stalked over to the couch, and plopped down hard. He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. He could feel the acidic tears building in his throat, and he tried to swallow them, but this only contributed to the dry lump. He looked up through his fingers as his eyes started watering, and he focused on the large bottle of prescription pills resting within his reach. He outstretched his shaking hand, when his eyes focused on something new.   
The dagger he had imprinted permanently on his forearm was in plain sight, and for some reason, it had caught him by surprise. He stared at it, thinking about nothing but the boy who held the other half. His beautiful flower. He ran his fingers over the dark ink, and sighed, thinking of how saddened Harry would be if he ever found out how shitty life really is. In Louis’ mind, Harry was still the cherub of a 16-year-old, still so naive.   
Of course, Harry had already figured out how shit life was. He had figured it out long ago, one day when Louis said so politely, with that crestfallen look on his face, “We need to talk.” But he was still holding out hope. Still writing songs about him, still googling him once a day, still checking his twitter and instagram for new updates on the love he hadn’t seen in years.  
Louis sighed, relaxing his back into the cushions and setting his ankles back on the table. He plucked the cigarette from the tray and drew his breath through it until it was nothing but ash. He set the now useless filter back down, and wrapped his arms around his knees; tucking himself into a ball as he laid down on his side. He squinted his eyes shut, trying to block out the light. He was aching to end it all. He had been for months. The only thing that was stopping him, was the curly haired lad that he knew would never forgive him. And even though that was working now, he dreaded the day when thoughts of Harry would no longer be enough.


	3. Chapter Two

Louis awoke to the smell of something burning. He sat up slowly, bringing a hand up to flatten his mussed hair. He ran his fingers over his forehead, and discovered that he was sweating profusely, which is when he realized how unbelievably hot it was in his room. He looked around for a moment, trying to pinpoint the source of the alarming scent, but he saw nothing conspicuous, so he dragged himself from the protection of his bed. He trudged down the long and curving hall separating him and the living room, and the air around him rose in temperature. He felt the beginning of panic start to bubble in his chest, and he slowed his footsteps, as ominous light and the sound of crackling appeared in front of him. He stepped into the living room, and was confronted with his entire couch up in simmering flames.  
“Shit!” He whispered loudly to himself, and jogged back into his room to grab his phone. He frantically dialed 911, his fingers shaking slightly. “911, what’s your emergency?” a monotone answered. Louis glanced at the clock, 3:57. A good enough explanation for why the operator was not happy. “Hi, my name’s Louis Tomlinson and my couch is on fire.” The attendant continued the rest of the conversation with more urgency, and he assumed it was because she knew exactly who he was. He left his house quickly, dashing through the accumulating smoke and out the front door. Once he was there, she told him the fire department was coming, and to stay outside until then.  
He plopped himself down on the curb, looking around at the plots of land beside his own, none of them containing houses. He had no one to warn about the inferno, now that Briana had left him behind, taking Freddie with her. He smiled as he thought of his son, and it faded as he thought of how his son probably felt about him. He was old enough at the time to know what “depression” and “drug abuse” meant. He looked up into the light polluted sky, and wished he had somebody he could tell about the fire. He swallowed hard as he thought of the person he always thought of, but he wiped that from his mind. He knew full well that Harry was on tour right now, and did not need for the guy who broke his heart 10 years ago to be calling him at 4 in the morning about a couch fire started by a misplaced cigarette. Not the way to go.  
Sirens started wailing in the distance, and the sound drew closer by the second. Soon enough, the ridiculously large red vehicle slammed to a halt about 20 feet to his left. He blinked in surprise, realizing he hadn’t even thought of moving out of it’s way. If it hadn’t stopped moving, would it have crushed him?  
5 burly men in raincoats leaped from the vehicle, extinguishing instruments in hand. He stood awkwardly, having no idea what to do. There was a lady that hung back. She had slouched shoulders, and a voice that sounded as if she’d spent her entire life around smoke. She stood with him until the guys came back out, which was an awkwardly long time for no conversation to be exchanged between them. He heard a slight commotion, and rolled his eyes when he realized the paparazzi had started to gather. “So, all the fire’s out,” the guys were suddenly in front of him, and he couldn’t help but notice the bags under all their eyes. “but you might wanna stay out of that room for a little while the smoke works it’s way out.” He nodded, biting his lip as a wave of exhaustion hit him. “You’re obviously gonna wanna get somebody to clean the mess up, but we’re good for now.” The big scary man patted his shoulder, and he moved more than he should’ve.  
He stumbled back towards his house, as the crowd of nothing but cameras screamed after him. He couldn’t help but slam the door behind him, blocking out the commotion that he was well aware would be on the news tomorrow. He reached for his phone, and scrolled through his contacts as he hurried to his bedroom. He fell onto his bed, and an entirely new wave of depression pushed against his chest as he realized he didn’t even want to call his Mother. She would only scold him for smoking in the house, and for calling her at an hour like this. Although, she was on a different continent. It was noon in London. Of course, this only swayed him towards calling Harry, but he yet again decided against it. He was the only person he wanted to talk to, but he had spent over a decade learning to control his impulses, he knew how to seem fine without him. Of course, the fact that this killed him on the inside was not helping his prescription addiction, but he chose to think of that as an inescapable consequence. He knew his life would be over soon anyway, he didn’t want to burden Harry with anything more than he had to. He drifted into unconsciousness, thoughts of chocolate curls and emerald eyes singing him to sleep.

Harry scraped his spoon along the bottom of his bowl, creating a very unpleasant sound. He didn’t stop though, he wouldn’t until every last Cheerio was rescued and digested. He had his breakfast rested in his lap, where his right ankle was crossed over his left knee. He was on his tour bus, meandering throughout Liverpool approximately 20 hours before he had a concert. The TV across from him was on, playing some kind of faux news program that paid little attention to the terms “unbiased” and “journalism.”  
He finished his food, and brought his bowl to the tiny cabinet system that he just shoved it into, knowing he would eat the same thing tomorrow. “So, did you hear about Louis Tomlinson?” He froze, his arms still half extended. “Yeah, the news is spreading like wildfire.” “Oh, stop it Ron.” The anchors on the show joked, and Harry turned around, his body rigid with fear. He had no idea what to expect when it came to Louis news, and this time was especially terrifying, considering that he had been having nightmares about Louis dying for the past month. “So, the scoop is that his house caught fire at about 3 am this morning, but the cause is yet to be disclosed, and this has started lots of conspiracy within the former ‘Directioners’ fan base.” Harry stepped briskly back to the couch, and leaned forward in anticipation. “Is he okay?” He whispered to himself. “So what do they think happened?” “Well, some are thinking that it was just some faulty wiring, while others are saying it had something to do with joints or cigarettes.” Harry pushed his fist down into the cushion next to him, and grabbed the remote control fiercely.  
He switched the program off, and looked around for his phone. When he caught sight of it on the kitchen counter, he leapt from his seated position and dove for the electronic device. He unlocked it with shaking hands and scrolled through his contacts. He reached Louis’ name, and hovered his thumb over the call button. He had considered just texting him, but he knew that wouldn’t suffice. With a rush of determination, and the need to make sure his Louis was okay, he pressed it firmly, and held the ringing phone to his ear.

Meanwhile, Louis was sitting with his back up against his closet, a needle within his right hand. He had never done heroin, but he knew enough about it to know that if he took as much as he was going to, he would die. And that was what he needed. He had spent too much time being sad. He didn’t matter to anyone anymore, including himself. His hand was shaking, causing the sharp tip to dance in the air. He had it positioned over his dagger tattoo, wanting that to be the last thing he saw coherently. He broke the skin, piercing the point into his vein. He took a deep breath, and prepared his thumb to start injecting it, when his phone went off. He froze. Everything he thought was true became questionable within that moment. Because the ringtone that was floating through the air, was the version of If I Could Fly that Harry had recorded especially for him, and the picture on the screen was from when they were together. One of Harry smiling at him; a time he hadn’t known happened until he’d seen the picture all over the internet.  
He extracted the needle from his now oddly sore arm, and grabbed his phone. He accepted the call, and simply said “Hello?” He hadn’t spoken all day, and the hoarseness of his voice startled him. “Louis, oh thank God.” Harry’s relieved voice came through the speaker crystal clear, and the sound alone brought Louis to tears. He felt his shoulders convulse, and he let the tears roll silently down his cheeks. “Louis? Louis are you okay?” Harry asked nervously, and Louis nodded, his whole body shaking with happiness. “Yes. Yes I’m wonderful, now that you’ve called.” He choked out, and Harry could hear the sobs in his voice. “Louis are… are you crying?” He wiped his nose on his bare wrist, having little to no effect. “Yeah, but I’m fine.” Harry was shocked, having not even had a conversation with the man in years, and now he was sobbing through his phone. He couldn’t be happier.  
He sat cautiously on his couch, paying attention to nothing but the small noises Louis was making every once in awhile. After several minutes, he heard a desperate whisper. “Distract me.” Harry gasped with a smile, the nostalgia hitting him like a title wave. Louis was in constant need of distraction and entertainment when they were young, since he was constantly getting bored. Distract me was a phrase Harry was very familiar with answering to. He cleared his throat and started describing the world around him, eventually moving onto his day and his feelings. “Well, I’m on my couch in my tour bus. The TV was on earlier, but I turned it off to talk to you. There’s a little table with a shit ton of magazines on it in front of me, kind of like a dentist’s office, but weirder ‘cause I don’t know where they came from.” Louis closed his eyes, adoring the sound of Harry’s voice. It was erupting inside him, filling his mind with so much love and beauty that there was no more room left for depression and sadness. “I spent the entire day making my way from London to Liverpool. Even though it shouldn’t take more than 3 ½ hours, we’re going really slow so I can rest. I enjoy the trips, but I can’t look out the window without people screaming. It must be nice to be farther out of the public eye.” He paused briefly, taking time to analyze his thoughts. “Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I stopped working. If I just let myself lose the fame, would I be happier?” Louis eyes fluttered open. He was shocked by the words. He had no idea Harry was getting tired of being famous, that definitely changed things. If he decided tomorrow that he was gonna stop making music for the rest of his life, Louis would have no problem proposing right then and there. But Harry was still relying on a fan base, and most of them were into his image because they were in love with the thought of being with him. The second any significant other stepped into the picture, sales were down immediately. Harry cleared his throat, and continued.  
“I called when I saw you on the news.” Louis thought back to the crowd of people that had formed outside his smoking house, and he was suddenly grateful for the paparazzi; something he never thought would happen. “Why didn't you call me, Lou? It scared me half to death when I saw it on the tele and they weren't telling me if you were injured.” That made Louis smile. There was someone left on this Earth that cared about him, and that was enough to make him happy. For now. He shrugged, unsure of how to respond. Harry asked again. “Why didn’t you call me?” Louis sighed, relaxing against the floor. “I didn’t think you’d care.” He paused, seeing if Harry would interrupt. He didn’t. “I thought you wouldn’t wanna hear from me.” His voice was quiet, barely a whisper as he confessed his greatest fear. Of course, his greatest fear had already been confirmed, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.  
On the other end, Harry was stunned. He had been thinking the same exact thing. He felt his thoughts were more justified, considering that Louis had broken up with him. But the fact that Louis had called because of misconception, and not hatred, was a step in the direction he wanted to be headed. “So . . . did you, um, you know did you want to call?” Harry asked cautiously, and Louis had to hold back his morbid laughter. Him not wanting to talk to Harry was an idea that had no justifiable reasoning behind it in his mind. “Of course I wanted to call you!” Louis smiled widely, but it slowly faded as he realized how this all sounded to Harry. Harry, of course, was having the time of his life.  
Louis had just confessed his wanting to speak with him, and Louis caring at all about what Harry does, was something that hadn’t taken place for years. At least, that’s what Harry thought. “So you really wanted to talk to me?” Louis’ smile returned. “Of course. And you have . . . no idea how glad I am that you called.” Louis said, swallowing his guilt as he looked down at the syringe that sat within his reach. Harry heard his change of tone, and was about to release the question from his lips, when his driver announced their impending arrival. He stood warily, looking out the window at the packed pavement.  
He cleared his throat, and Louis’ face fell, knowing exactly what that meant. “Um, Lou? I just got here, and I’m gonna get ushered around by security for the next couple hours, so I gotta go.” Louis nodded, his face a mask. “Okay. Well, have fun during your show Hazza.” Harry smiled sadly. “Thanks.” He paused, not sure of how to propose his wants. “Um, Louis?” “Yes Harry?” Louis answered, not wanting to hang up. “Can I call you tomorrow? And probably most of the days after that? I just, I really missed you Lou. I feel like if I could talk to you more it would make me happier. Now, of course you don’t have to agree-” “Sure, Hazz. That sounds lovely.” Louis said, trying to control his grin. Harry grinned back, and they could both sense the other’s positivity. “Okay, well, talk to you later Lewis.” Louis smiled, no longer sad about saying goodbye. “Bye Harold.”  
They both pulled away from their phones with huge smiles smothering the rest of their features. Harry bit his lip, tucking his phone filled hand underneath his chin as he celebrated the victory under his breath. Louis felt saltwater tugging at the inner corners of his eyes, and he rubbed it away. They were both so unbelievably happy, that the last decade didn’t matter. Because it turned out that that wasn’t the end, and they were both secretly hoping to see the other’s face again.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading this without any editing, if there's mistakes that's why :)

“Thank you Liverpool, you’ve been a great crowd!” Harry yelled the generic tagline into his mic, before letting his arm drop to his side. He ran a hand through his hair as he made his way off the stage, waving to crowd members as he went. He was quick to get off stage today, specifically for reasons that were currently in bed in Los Angeles. He ripped out his in-ears, earning a glare from the sound production people, and handed his mic off to his stage manager. 

“What’s the hurry, Styles?” Harry just flashed them a cheeky grin, and the entire crew rolled their eyes.

“I’m in love with you. I love you. I never stopped loving you.” He whispered the words under his breath as he proceeded through the dark backstage corridor, and into his tour bus that had been parked directly against the arena door to prevent mobbing. He paced up and down his temporary home and fidgeted with his shirt. He sighed, the high of the performance wearing off, and the weary, sweaty after stage kicking in. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, and made his way into the bathroom. He said the words into the mirror. “I’ve always loved you, Louis Tomlinson.” 

He showered quickly, not wanting the alone time to plant a seed of doubt. He was ready to confess. He was tired of waiting for Louis to come to him. He had to make a move. But what if that move was rejected indefinitely? His thoughts slowed. He reached for the shower knob, pushing it and stopping the stream of water. He let his hand remain there, and allowed his arm to support him as the seed of doubt he wanted to avoid found it’s way into his brain.

It would make no sense for Louis to accept him. He bent his elbow. Louis had forced him away a long time ago, and there hadn’t been any sign of reconciliation until last night. And if there was anything he knew about Louis, it was that he would find any reason to discredit their last conversation in order to keep him far away. He pushed himself off the wall, and stepped past the cheap curtain into the suddenly frigid air. He wrapped his arms over each other, shielding his wet chest against the cold. He grabbed a towel, keeping his arms intertwined, and threw it over his shoulder. He didn’t even attempt to cover himself, leaving his clothes in the bathroom as he sulked into the main section of his trailer. 

He walked past the couch, and through the kitchen to his makeshift bedroom. He grabbed a fresh pair of pants and stuffed his legs into the tight cotton, more so conforming to the social normality of wearing clothes than choosing to do something he wanted to. He slipped his towel down around his shoulders, wearing it like a cape to protect his skin from his dripping hair.

He plopped himself down on the sofa, pulling the blanket he had left there that morning over his head. He captured the fuzzy fabric between his teeth, biting down to suppress his rage at himself for ruining his own life. He shook his towel off his shoulders, and let the blanket take it’s place. With the corner of his new cape still trapped in his mouth, he grabbed his phone from the table in front of him, and ventured into his camera roll.  
He scrolled back until he found the last picture of Louis he ever took, something he now enacted daily. He stared at the familiar image, fully aware of the fact that the contents of the were now more foreign than ever. Louis was sitting on their couch, a bowl of cereal cradled against his chest by his left arm, a spoon in his right. His eyes were on the TV, a smug smile on his face as a gossip news channel reported on his and Briana’s joined custody being confirmed; after her argument against him fell through. Little did any of them know, that it would only be a matter of months before Louis lost all of that. Press attention. Freddie. Harry. 

Of course, all Harry knew was that Louis had wanted things to change, and they had. He had no knowledge of the mental torment through which Louis had suffered in order to see his son, or the lies behind the promises that had led to him losing everything.  
Harry bit down on the blanket until his teeth hurt, his eyes starting to water as he scrolled back farther. Louis covered in melting ice cream that Harry had smeared all over his face. A selfie of them wrapped in a blanket, the light of a campfire making their eyes shine bright. The one that made Harry click out of his camera roll and into his actual phone app, was a screenshot of one of Louis’ tweets he had taken years back. It didn’t take him long to find Louis number, and it took him even less time to press the call button.

Louis slurped another cold noodle into his mouth, not allowing himself to be bothered by the slightly slimy texture of the three day old dinner. His phone sat beside him on the counter, as he was not feeling like sitting on the boring stool today. He glanced down at it every couple seconds, awaiting Harry’s call, like usual. Except today, he had reason to assume their communication was guaranteed. Because they had spoken. Harry’s mouth had moved, and made a noise, which Louis had received through his ear, and used his brain to decode the sounds into language. And it was the most fucking amazing thing that had happened  
to Louis in 10 years. 

He swung his feet back and forth, allowing his bare heels to bang into the cupboard. He was celebrating, because he had felt no cravings all day. He had taken his morning self prescribed medication to make the jabbing pain of life subside, and the rest of the day had been an absolute breeze. He had texted his mother, and she called him and they chatted. He got in contact with his lawyer about visiting Freddie in the near future. He was even having a grand ole’ time just sitting on his porch watching the sun progress across the sky. 

However, the moment his day went from great to perfect, was when his phone started ringing against the marble countertop. He threw his bowl down and grappled at his vibrating mobile, his insides coming alive as his entire body went through a reboot. He could feel the hairs on his arms raise as he took in the caller ID, and his heart flutter as he accepted the call. “Hey.” He said, sounding ten times as confident as he felt.

“Hi.” It was all Harry had to say in order for Louis’ entire life to suddenly form a complete puzzle. 

“Fuck me. . .” He let out breathily, immediately straightening up, his eyes widening in fear as his hand slapped over his mouth. Harry laughed loudly on the other end. 

“Excuse me, Louis?” The words were half choked, escaping through trills of laughter. “Was that what I think it was?” Louis posture softened slightly, his raised hand wiping any pesto remnants from his sheepishly smiling lips.

“Whatever. . . It’s not like you don’t hear that all the time, pop star.” 

“Hey, don’t forget where you belong, Lou. You were once a pop star who got a lot more ‘fuck me’ mail than the rest of us did.” Louis scoffed before responding. 

“Please. You know full well that your ‘fuck me’ quotient was the highest of any body for several solid years.”

“Oh, so that means I’m supposed to be used to you whispering it through the phone?” 

“It’s not like that hasn’t happened bef-” He stopped in his tracks, the natural flow of their conversation halting before their eyes. Because it was impossible to talk about the present, without mentioning the past. 

Harry cleared his throat, repositioning himself inside his now moving tour bus, the sofa bending beneath him. “Anyway,” He spoke slowly, hesitation strong in his voice. “I’m glad you picked up. I was afraid you’d be eating.” Louis glanced at his abandoned dinner, and coughed lightly. 

“Yeah. Good thing.” There was a slight pause before he continued. “How was Liverpool?” Harry sighed. I was distracted by the thought of your voice the entire time, was his first instinct, but he ended up deciding on a safer answer. 

“It was good, not as loud as London, but it’s rare that anyone’s as loud as London.” He exhaled through his nose. “You would know.” Louis smiled softly, that memory being enough for him to handle. 

“Yeah. Liverpool usually has a lot of signs, though. Anything interesting?” Larry is REAL, was yet again Harry’s first instinct, but he dismissed the truth for safety. 

“There was one that said something along the lines of ‘Sit on my face cause I love Jesus,’ but nothing else was too crazy.” Louis laughed hard at that, his gut throbbing as he moved the phone away from his ear. Harry on the other hand, pressed the phone closer to his ear, wanting to catch every giggle and weighted breath. He let his eyes flutter shut as Louis’ laughter faded into a wide smile, and simply listened to him breath. 

They sat content for some time, Louis in his Los Angeles kitchen, Harry in his makeshift living room. It was Louis who broke the peaceful silence. “So, where are you headed?” He had looked up all of Harry’s tour destinations previously, and knew exactly where he was heading, but he was not letting this conversation die. It took Harry a second to gather his thoughts. 

“Oh, um, Glasgow? Yeah. Glasgow. I’m there tonight, and then I go to Dublin, and then I get to fly back to London for the BBC Music Award show thing.” Louis smiled. 

“The BBC Music Award show thing?” 

“What else would you call it?”

“Don’t know, you’re the international superstar who’s probably gonna sweep the entire event.” Harry giggled. 

“Yeah right. I appreciate the support, but we both know that Ed is the one who’s gonna win everything.” Louis nodded once, not agreeing, but not disagreeing. 

“He’s a great songwriter, but so are you.” He said, subtly referencing the albums worth of songs that were undeniably about him. “You definitely aren’t going home empty handed.” Harry smiled, accepting the compliment with more positivity than he knew he was capable of.

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you.” Louis smiled at the ground, his feet kicking again.

“You’re very welcome.” There was another happy pause, but this time Harry broke through.

“So what time is it there?” He asked, even though he knew full well that he was exactly 8 hours ahead.

“Almost 5.” Louis paused. “Wait, isn’t it like 2 there? Why aren’t you sleeping?” Harry rubbed his eye with his free hand, the event filled day and concert filled night catching up to him once Louis mentioned sleep.

“Well, I was with my team all morning planning shit, and then I spent several hours writing for my next album- pretend you didn’t hear that -and then I had my concert, but I still had to talk to you, of course, so I guess I’m up late by choice. But it’s fine,” He said through a yawn. “I’ll live.” Louis smiled, his heart sparking at the term I still had to talk to you. 

“Well, I guess this really is all your fault.” Harry laughed. “Sorry Haz, you’ve done yourself in. There’s nothing I can do to save you.” He smiled at the sound of high pitched happiness, and soaked in the sunshine Harry constantly emitted. Harry’s laughter faded into another yawn, and Louis giggled. “Okay, I should go. I’ll talk to you soon, but you need to sleep. And we’ve been talking for almost an hour, we’re not exactly bereft.” Harry continued to yawn through his words.

“Oh well aren’t you fancy, with your big words and your sarcasm.” He smiled as Louis laughed. “I’m glad you still find me amusing, I’ll admit I was afraid you’d think I’ve changed too much.” Louis’ smile faded. 

“I will never be bored of you, Haz.” His tone shifted, and the hairs on Harry’s arms rose. “I’ve changed too. We’re pretty equal in that regard.” Harry nodded, his eyes fluttering shut. Louis turned his head towards the phone, a small smile growing on his face. “Are you falling asleep on me?” Harry’s eyes widened momentarily before they closed again. 

“How could you tell?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I know you really well, H.” Harry smiled as he slumped onto his side, resting his head on the arm of the couch. Louis heard the shift. “Goodnight Hazza.” Harry yawned one last time. 

“Night Lou.” Louis hung up, setting his phone down. He let himself smile off into space for several minutes, before picking up his phone again, and taking to twitter. Little did he know, that the entire internet would be flipped on it’s head by the time he woke up, all because of twenty little words.

 

@Louis_Tomlinson:

all the rest of my crimes don’t come close to the look on your face when I let you go .


	5. Chapter Four

Former One Direction Member Louis Tomlinson Tweets Throwback Lyric

Harry Styles Seen Looking Chipper Pre-concert in Glasgow

The Return of Larry Stylinson? Fans Speculate

 

Harry scrolled through the headlines of every celebrity news site in existence, his heart beat speeding up with every word. He had been out in the world that day, perusing the internet, when his daily stalking of Louis’ social media led him to the tweet of the decade. He was shocked at first, jumping to the conclusion that it was about him. Then he scolded himself for being so conceited, and allowed his mind to consider the options. But of course, Louis had never truly been with anyone other than him, so by due process of law, it was indeed about him. Not to mention it was a lyric from one of the songs he wrote, and then covered when he split off.

After the initial finding of the tweet, he literally ran home; his feet carrying him at a pace that was unacceptably slow. Of course the paps caught him, leading to many a fan freaking out over #ReturnOfTheDimples and #RunHarryRun. 

Once he made it home, he scrolled through every one of his secret social media accounts, favoriting everything he could find on the matter. He learned quite a few things about how many people still cared about what him and Louis were up to (and how many news sites were subpar at finding newsworthy content.) He found one Tumblr account that went back for more than a decade, with just pictures of him and Louis together, and mentions of all the times they were in the same city. 

He could feel himself getting emotional, looking back at all the photos of them next to each other. He had taken it for granted, being near him all the time. It had all been so magical. Being able to see him every day, being able to travel together. Being allowed to touch him whenever he felt like it.   
Well, whenever he felt like it, and no one else was around. 

He looked up from his phone slowly, the thought dawning on him as an old interview clip with an Adele song in the background played on loop, and suddenly the memories were no longer a fairytale. 

It hadn’t been perfect. They had fought, and cried. They had split up, pressured by management and beards. They had broken up years ago, and he most definitely had never been allowed to touch him whenever he wanted to. So why did he remember it as the best years of his life?

He smiled down at his phone. He knew exactly why. Because Louis Tomlinson was the most beautiful, empathetic, generous, sassy, son of a goddess to ever grace this planet. And he was fucking stupid in love with him.

He scooped his mobile into his hand, opening up his contacts and dialing Louis’ number. As it rang, he chanted quietly to himself. “I’m in love with you, I’m in love with you, I’m in love with you.” If he didn’t do it now, it was very possible that Louis would never find out. And Harry was not losing him again.   
His smile fell, ice cold dread seeping through his veins. What if him admitting his feelings, would only insure Louis’ departure? 

“Harry, what are you doing? You know I don’t get up before 10, and it’s fucking 6 am.” Harry’s throat closed. “Harry?” He couldn’t do it. “Haz is that you?” But he had to.

Louis sat up in bed, cradling the phone to his ear. “Harry is something wrong? Why aren’t you answering me?” Nothing. He could hear Harry breathing, but not much else. Harry on the other hand, was panicking. He wiped his sweating palm on his jeans, and cleared his throat slightly as he spoke. “I-” Nothing else came out. Louis sighed quietly. “You what?” He rubbed the sleep from his eye as he awaited Harry’s response. “I’m-” He swallowed the lump in his throat, hoping that this would not be their last civil moment. “I’m- I’m gonna be in LA soon.” What. That was not what he had been planning to say. 

Louis responded quietly as Harry face palmed. “Yeah, I looked up your tour schedule. I knew you were gonna be here.” He yawned as he continued speaking. “Has it gained some new significance in the past day?” Harry’s mouth fell open as he tried to form a response, and was left with nothing but obvious facts. “Well, no.” Louis chuckled gently, trying to not outright laugh at Harry. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” 

Harry scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I was gonna confess something, but I think I’ll just tell you when I see you.” Louis’ heart sped up, and he could hear Harry’s sharp breath through the phone as they both realized what he had just said. “When you see me? Why do you think we’re gonna see each other?” Harry’s heart felt like burning ice. “Um. . .” Louis was sitting up straight in bed, his hand shaking against his thigh. Harry spoke fast. Well, fast for Harry. “Because I’m performing for an entire weekend -where you live- and I really want to see you. It doesn’t have to happen, obviously. I’m so sorry I just kind of assumed-” Louis cut him off.

“It’s okay, I wanna see you too.” 

Harry stopped. His heart was no longer clenched, but more so felt like it was taking all of his strength to keep it inside his chest. “You-you do?” Louis smiled, trying to hold back his gush of emotions at the sound of Harry’s hopeful and surprised voice.

“Of course I do. Always in my heart, remember?”


End file.
